


After Dark

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Dark, Horror, R/NC-17 - Red Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-17
Updated: 2008-04-17
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Written for theAnonymous Pornfest. The prompt was "Sam and a vampire, but the vampire's not interested in killing".





	After Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).

Sam floats on a sea of sensation. Time stands still now; past, present and future no longer existing within this bubble of ecstasy. White hot sparks crackle across his skin, pleasure and pain mingle. His skin, so hot, so hot, yet chill. Goosebumps rise, his body still unmoving, but his whole soul shudders.

 

 

He cannot move, cannot turn to embrace the visceral thrill. The unstoppable force now meets the immovable object and destruction is inevitable. But Sam is begging for it, pleading for it. For this to stop right now. For it to never end.

 

 

Suspended in the dark, Sam is no longer tethered to reality. Nothing now, no sound but his heart, beating triple time, no taste, no touch. Even the wild crackling electricity has paused in the calm before storm.

 

 

Mesmerised, he stares. Drowning in two pools of black, a feedback loop, the longer he stares, the longer he will be fixated. But that doesn't matter, he passed the point of return an eternity ago. His eyes flutter shut, accepting, willing, wanting, needing.

 

 

Now hands. Hands stroke up and down, gently, caressing. One hand in the nape of his neck, one on his cheek, tilting, the whole world is tilting. Hands, many hands now. So many hands it seems the whole world has been invited to this feast. But no. Just two hands. Two small hands, gently soothing.

 

 

Lips; kiss, claiming. 

 

 

Tongue; licks, tasting. 

 

 

Teeth.

 

 

And there, the excruciating pain rips through him, tearing him apart in this climax, unable to scream or to shout, to shudder, to push the source of this torment away. 

 

 

But wait. There is music in his ears. The drums, so frantic before in their dance, are slowing, an hypnotic charm, gently swaying to the beat as it dims. In ever decreasing spirals, the pain ebbs; his limbs, so weightless before, are heavy, so heavy, dragging him down into the earth. He goes willingly now, unable to resist, free-falling into the dark.

 

 

*

 

 

Sated, she looks down at the now-sleeping man. He won't remember. He never remembers. Which is just as well, there is no point in killing off a cash-cow after all. She licks her lips and turns away, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth with one hand and grasping the arm of a small clown doll with the other.


End file.
